Thursday, December 31, 2015

On the thirty-first day of December my true love gave to me...
Flyer's Story (unnamed)  - Rescue for Hire West 4 (unedited)

There was a brief knock on the door before it opened, revealing a short, stocky blond-haired man. Flynn’s leg began bobbing. The nervous habit was one he couldn’t break. He refused to let his mind wander to memories of how some had tried to break it for him.
“Hi, the guy who answered the door told me to come right in.” The man smiled, sending Flyer’s leg bobbing harder. He wondered what the odds were that a man resembling a maniac from Flyer’s past would come in here and interview for a job. How could two people have the same shade of blond hair, cut in the same short style and the same crooked front tooth?
“You must be Tom.” Roman stood and held out his hand. “Come in, I’m Roman Marshall, and this is our pilot, Flyer Wakefield.
“Tom Bennet.” Tom shook Roman’s hand before turning to Flyer. “Nice to meet you.”
Flyer stared at the small square hand held out to him. Flashes of short fingers with sharp nails raking trails of fire down his chest swamped Flyer. Blinking away the horrible memories, somehow Flyer managed to give Tom’s hand a brief shake. His mind compared it to the warm, dry skin of a snake.
Collapsing back in his chair, Flyer stared at the round-faced man and waited to see if a twitch formed at the corner of one of his blue eyes. If that happened, Flyer was diving for the door, no matter what the Captain wanted.
Tom smiled at Roman and nodded. There seemed to be a conversation going on between the men, but Flyer couldn’t hear a word they were saying above the rapid pounding of his heart. Tom moved his hand, and Flyer flinched. Cold sweat trickled down the center of Flyer’s back. The agony of being in the room with this man seemed to go on and on.
Flyer grabbed onto the seat of his chair to steady himself when Roman stood. By now his leg was bobbing so hard his body almost vibrated off the chair. Tom stood. Adrenaline spiked, and Flyer lurched to his feet and stepped back.
As the other two men shook hands, Flyer lost the thin thread of his control and backed away until his back hit the wall. Tom frowned, sending shivers coursing through Flyer’s body. Thank goodness the man didn’t comment. Flyer didn’t breathe again until the door closed behind the man.
For such a hard, powerful man, Roman’s gaze was gentle as he took in Flyer’s trembling form. “What was the trigger?”
“His hands, along with a similarity.” Flyer shoved a shaking hand through his thick brown hair. He kept it very short at the sides and long enough on top for a few strands to cover his forehead.
“Take a deep breath, sit down and try to relax,” Roman urged. “We have a few minutes until the next applicant.”
Flyer collapsed into his chair. Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees and hid his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.”
A large hand clasped Flyer’s shoulder. In dealing with the bubbling turmoil swirling through his body, Flyer hadn’t heard Roman move. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve already told me you were mixed up with the wrong guy in the past. When you’re ready to talk about it some more, just remember, my door is always open.”
Flyer tilted his head until only his eyes were uncovered. “Thanks.”
Roman smiled, but it didn’t reach his blue eyes. “Of course, you do realize that the only applicant that came close to what we are looking for is Tom.”
Flyer’s heart dropped into his guts. “Captain, I’m not sure…”
“Save it,” Roman interrupted. “Someone will come along that fits. We can wait.”
Before Flyer could let his body relax with relief the office door opened. There was no knock, and it didn’t burst open. The doorknob firmly turned, and the door opened in a confident and no-nonsense way.
Black leather boots with heavy silver chains across the tops moved into Flyer’s line of vision. Fascinated, he let his gaze travel up over the long expanse of jean covered legs. Flyer lingered on thighs the size of tree trucks and wondered if he wrapped his hands around them if his fingers would touch.  A long wallet chain attached to a front belt loop circled to the man’s back pocket. The chain drew one's eye to the man’s generous package that was straining the black jeans material. Flyer had the urge to reach out and run his fingers over the bulge.
Tearing his gaze away from the man’s privates, Flyer found more delights to enjoy by way of a tight black T-shirt covering a flat belly and stretched tight around a thickly muscled chest. A black leather vest emphasized wide shoulders and concluded the bad boy’s biker outfit.
The man’s arms were ripped with muscles and heavy veins. Flyer wanted to touch and trace those veins, following them down to the guy’s large hands and long fingers. Hands like those could make a guy feel secure, and bring him to ecstasy. In his mind, Flyer could feel the nerves of his asshole sizzling as two of those fingers scissor him open.
Flyer lifted his gaze higher and collided with dark eyes sparkling with humor. Flyer was memorized. He couldn’t look away. Never before had he wanted to sink into someone’s being upon first meeting them as he did now.
Roman cleared his throat and broke the moment. “You must be Styx Randall. Let’s sit down and I’ll ask you a few questions before Flyer starts drooling.”
As the tall, dark haired man nodded at Roman and sat, Flyer casually touched a finger to the corner of his mouth.  When the tip came away wet, Flyer nonchalantly wiped it on his jeans. Roman never looked at him, but Flyer was sure the smirk on his face was aimed at him
Roman glanced down at the open file on his desk. “I see, during your time as a Navy Seal, you gained your certification in Power Plant and A&P mechanics. Very impressive. I also see that you have a degree in vehicle engine repair.”
Styx nodded at Roman. Flyer was so busy admiring the man’s deep tan and the rough scruff of black hair surrounding sexy lips and covering his jaw, at first he didn’t notice that Styx hadn’t answered out loud.
Frowning, Flyer pushed aside the riot of desires strumming through his body and studied the man. Styx Randall was hot, with short, thick black hair. It looked as though it would curl if left to grow a little longer. Flyer lost his battle with his desires and his imagination starting wondering to thoughts of running his fingers through soft black curls as his dick was being serviced.
Blinking back the images, Flyer dragged his mind back to the here and now. He was looking for a clue to the reasons behind the muteness. The man had nice ears, not too big and set close to his head. Flyer wanted to take the gold hoop decorating the lobe into his mouth and suck on it.
Giving himself a mental shake away from the imagined taste of metal and skin, Flyer took in Styx’s thick muscular neck. There it was. A jagged, thin white line started on one side and crossed over the front of Styx’s throat to the other, marring the deeply tanned skin.
“I see you also have a pilot’s license.” Roman sat back in his chair and studied Styx. “On paper, you have it all. And yet, I need to know more. All the applicants so far have only wanted to work on the vehicles or the planes, not both. Except for one, but Flyer wasn’t comfortable working with him. So tell me what you’re looking for.”
Flyer leaned forward and clasped his hands together in anticipation of hearing the big man speak. When he did, Flyer sat back in shock.
The voice that came out of Styx’s mouth was a low, hoarse whisper with a squeaky crack at the end of every sentence. “I like all engines and can fly anything. I refused to work anywhere that employs homophobes. Rescue for Hire has a good reputation. I’m hoping the West branch will live up to the originals standards.” Styx turned his head, and intense dark eyes looked into the depths of Flyer’s soul. “I think Flyer and I will get along just fine.”